Sensation of Falling
by Zinbuki-san
Summary: It was, she assumed, her fault he left. [Anemone x Dominic] False hope, that is what the anemone meant. In that case, she deserved all this. Her stupid, mean self deserved all this. After all, false hope was her name. [T for swears] [anemonexdominic]


_For once, I wrote something NOT Naruto. For once, I wrote something without listening to any music… apparently, the sound of a hurting heart is **so** much more inspiring._

**Disclaimer: **_I can barely follow this series (Eureka Seven) sometimes, so how the hell would I be able to own it?_

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**Sensation of Falling**

_Part I - Anemone_

Her thoughts were running wild. She tossed and turned, unable to slip into the realm of dreams. She longed for sleep, but she knew it would not come. No – if she can't even have what she wants – no, needs – most, then why would she get a second-rate thing like sleep? She knew the truth, and it was cold and hard.

She didn't deserve sleep, and she didn't deserve _him. _She didn't deserve all the times he calmed her or helped her, she didn't deserve the times he gave her those needles she needed so badly. She didn't even deserve the blood red flower that was sitting in a cup not five feet from her head… the anemone. She smirked bitterly. Anemone. The flower of false hope. She didn't even deserve _false hope. _Real hope? She chuckled dryly. No, that was just a legend, a fairy tale – there's no such thing as hope. And if there once was, she threw it all away.

She remembered the time she needed her medication, but didn't want it. Nobody would, or could, go near her. But he did anyway. She was furious, but she couldn't retaliate. She was too weak. But still, he had the _nerve_ to go near her… and he did wind up giving her that needle after all, didn't he? At the time, it made her sick – he was so pathetic, following orders like a little gofer, doing as he was told when he was told, regardless of how it might injure him. Looking back, though, caused her brow to furrow. No, that wasn't why he did it. He was worried; his silver eyes had given that away. Unlike the others, he _cared_.

Just like that other time. When she punched him and bit him. She could tell she had hurt him, not just physically, but she didn't care. (He deserved it, right? Wrong.) Either way, he had stayed there, at that time. She had fucking _bit _him, _bruised_ his face, so it was swollen and sore, and he _still fucking stayed._ He didn't yell at her or hit her back; he didn't even ask her _why_ she had done it. He just… stayed...

And then, oh and then, there was that one memory; the memory that _should_ have made her happy. Instead, it only made her want to kick herself harder. He had brought her _flowers_, dammit, _flowers._ She loved flowers! But, no, stupid little girl, stupid _selfish_ girl didn't want them. Forget the fact he was on the battlefield _she created_ when he found those flowers, forget the fact the carnage he saw – carnage _she_ left – made him sick and vomiting, forget the fact that, when he saw them, all he could think of was _her_. Forget the fact he brought them back, across the bloodstained ground, over the corpses littering the area, over _her_ disgusting mess, without rumpling so much as a petal, just for _her._

It wasn't his fault he didn't know what they were called and it wasn't his fault that he didn't know what they meant. He only saw that blood-red anemone and their beauty, and he only saw _her._ And yet, when he got back, kindly offering them to her with a sad, shy smile, and a kind, soft voice, hoping to cheer her up – she didn't even bother to look at him in disgust, like she normally would have. She simply stared at him, and told him, as _coldly _and as _cruelly _as one could get – "They're anemone - they mean false hope." False hope; anemone. Blood-coloured anemone. He looked a little hurt when she looked away from him, but she ignored it. 'Stupid boy,' she had thought at the time, 'only here to make me more miserable'. _Fuck_, why did she have to be so _selfish?_

"Stupid, stupid girl…" she murmured. She felt her eyes water and something within her plummet, falling down, down, down… down into oblivion. She reached for the flower, and gently touched the soft petals. Her vision blurred and something warm and wet cascaded down the side of her face. Tears, again.

She went back to that memory, when he had given her those flowers. Even though she shunned him that day, utterly shot down any hope he may have had, he kept going. Why did he keep going?! If he hadn't of done that… no, no, it was her fault. If she hadn't've reacted that way. Even though she rejected his flowers, rejected _him,_ somehow he knew that was not how she actually felt. She didn't know it, but he did. And he went with it. There was silence, a sad, desperate boy, and a stupid, stupid girl. And he kissed her. He leaned over, slowly, carefully, and _kissed_ her. At first, she didn't react. Let him do what he wants, she thought at the time; let him have his stupid little moment. But no, she couldn't even give him that. Only a few seconds into it, even though she _wanted_ it, she _really_ wanted it, she had to ruin even that. She bit him, she punched him. He fell back to the floor, flat on his ass, his lip bleeding and slowly swelling, shock in his eyes. "Go away," she had told him. Because, of course, he wasn't worthy of her selfish self. And he went.

And now, in this moment, in the present, as tears came down her face, violent and hideous words filled her mind. All, every single _little_ one, was directed at herself. He was _gone_ dammit, and he didn't even say goodbye! He didn't say it because he _knew_ what she would do, he _knew_ that she would only laugh her stupid, annoying, high-pitched laugh, and bid him a good _riddance_. She would probably have kicked him or bit him again anyway, because he was just stupid little Dominic.

But the truth was, she was even stupider. She let him go. At first, when he was gone, she didn't care. But when she was alone (where did Gulliver go? Probably with Dominic), for the first time, without his _stupid, annoying_ face around, she had realized it; he was gone. He was gone! And it was all her fault. She drove him away, thinking she didn't _want_ him around, so therefore, he shouldn't have _been _around. It was true, she didn't _want_ him around. She _needed _him around. She _needed_ him. He _needed_ to be here. She was so lost without him, so empty… And Dewey? Pfft, stupid Dewey. All along she thought he was more important than silly little Dominic. Dewey was the one that cared for her, right? Wrong – so very wrong. Without Dominic around she felt so _lost_ and so _alone_ and so _stupid,_ and she _hated_ herself. And Dewey? He didn't even notice. He didn't even _care_.

False hope – that is what the anemone meant. In that case, she deserved all this. Her stupid, selfish, _mean_, _undeserving_ self deserved all this. After all, false hope was her name.

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_This was longer than expected. -grumbles- Now if only I could get my NaNoWriMo started…_

_I won't lie, I've had some… troubles… lately with someone very close to me. In fact, after seeing Eureka Seven episode 49, I actually felt like crying ('cause y'know, I haven't been doing enough of that lately –sarcasm-). It was scary, how close Anemone's situation and emotions are to mine. She loved Dominic, but didn't realize it, and through her crude and violent nature, drove him away. I loved somebody, but didn't realize it, and through my crude and violent nature, drove him away. Dominic left, and my aforementioned person left. But, unlike me, Anemone's someone came back. _

_**On a less personal note**__, I wanted to mention something about __**theEND **__in here, but I forgot as I was writing, and scanning over it I don't see a place I can squeeze it in effectively. Maybe I'll squeeze it in on the next part._

_As always;__** Reviews make me happy**__ and I try to respond and even review your stuff. _

_**So please, drop me a line**__, even if it's just a smiley or a "well done". Go ahead and flame, too, I don't mind. I accept crits as well. _


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